Flotsam Read online

  Mr. Heckler shook his head. “No. I can tell you later. After we get you out of zis mess.”

  “Please. Just tell me, Mr. Heckler. Tell me right now. What if you can’t get me out? I want to know. I want to help you if I can.”

  “Nope,” Mr. Heckler said, letting go of Amy’s hand. “I vill tell you later. Promise.”

  “Wait!” Amy cried. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me here, alone.”

  “Amy. I’m not going to leave you,” he said. “Hey, don’t go to sleep, okay? Do you remember za day vhen you first came to live vith me and you found zat fawn?”

  Amy nodded.

  “Do you remember when I told you we should name him Flotsam, because you both looked like washed-up wreckage?”

  She nodded again, struggling to stay awake.

  “Vell,” Mr. Heckler went on. “Dis here mess, zis house on top of you, is chust another term for flotsam. See, vhen flotsam happens, zere’s no need for feeling hopeless. Because it vill zoon go away. Flotsam is anything bad zat shouldn’t happen, but does. Flotsam is what you get vhen you have a sister zat wets za bed, and you’re lucky enough to be za one sleeping next to her. It’s vhen you get a bad grade in zchool, after trying your best to get zat A.

  It’s vhat happens when you have to take a test vith a nasty runny nose. Flotsam is vhat you get vhen you swallow swimming pool water. It’s vhen the power goes out when you’re writing a report. It’s ze disappointment vhen zomeone breaks a promise, and the sadness zat comes vhen you feel lonely. It’s little tings, like losing your car keys, or getting picked last in a game. It’s big tings too. Like vhen parents get a divorce or vhen zomeone you love, dies. It’s vhen your crush doesn’t like you back.” He paused and sniffed. “You see Amy, Flotsam is rotten garbage that floats up on the sea of life, regardless of who you are. Yet, ze funny ting is, vith so much Flotsam floating a round, you vould tink zat everybody vould give up, and call it quits. But most of us don’t, oddly enough.”

  “We don’t?” Amy asked.

  “Nope,” Mr. Heckler went on, “We don’t. Some have hope zat there vill be better days ahead. Others chust try to ignore their troubles. The angry ones get mad at life and find reasons to picket the streets with “happy” little signs, to let the world know who is responsible for their miserable life. But ze smart people, Amy---the real smart ones, know zat flotsam is chust a passing thing, because deep inside, zey know that God or whoever you want to call him, uses that yucky stuff do reshape our lives into a beautiful sculpture. So while you’re down here in za dark, I vant you to tink of your beautiful fawn who had a bad start, but turned out to be someting beautiful in za end, a friend for you and a blessing to many peoples in town. Amy, that is vhat your life is going to be like. So don’t ever give up. These beams that are keeping you trapped here, these flotsamy tings are chust passing froth.” He smiled, “So chust keep on remembering zat, vhile I go get zome help, okay?”

  “Okay, Amy murmured, gasping. “I’ll try.”

  “Good,” Mr. Heckler said, scooting carefully backward beneath the boards. “I’ll be right back.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Secret Of The Old Lunch Box

  After what seemed like forever, Mr. Heckler crawled back beneath the boards to Amy. He shined his light on her still face, and tapped her cheeks. “Amy,” he murmured. “Hey, wake up.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled through her tears. “You’re back.”

  “Yeah. Help is on its vay.”

  Just then, the boards above them shifted, causing dust, and plaster to rain down.

  “You shouldn’t be down here,” Amy said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  Mr. Heckler smiled, and shook his head. “I vill be fine. Zomeone needs do be down here vith you so you don’t fall asleep.”

  Complaining timbers above them shifted again, causing falling plaster to filter down on them again.

  “You should leave,” Amy insisted. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Don’t vorry,” Mr. Heckler said. “Zat’s chust da team moving stuff around. They’ll have you out of here in no time. Here, I got zometing to tell you zat vill cheer you up.”

  Amy looked skeptical. “You do?”

  “Yes. I do. You know zat old lunchbox zat I asked you to find?”

  “Yeah. I still have it in my room. I feel bad that I haven’t taken it to Mr. Burnham yet.”

  “Vell, don’t feel bad. I gave it back to him today.”

  “You did?”

  “I did.”

  Amy’s eyes filled with interest. “Do you know why he kept it with him, bolted shut for thirty years?”

  Mr. Heckler nodded. “I do, now. Would you like to hear ze story behind it? It’s quite long.”

  Amy nodded.

  “Vell,” Mr. Heckler said. “Ze story of za lunchbox goes back clear down to Vorld Var Two. You sure you still vant to hear it?”

  “Yes,” Amy said.

  Mr. Heckler cleared his throat. “Vell, okay. Here goes. A long time ago, long before you were born, vhen you vere chust a star in ze sky, Vorld Var II broke out. At age twenty-one Mr. Burnham signed up in za United States Air Force, after ze bombing of Pearl Harbor. And, I being a Cherman, vas drafted into za Cherman ranks, as a prison guard, watching mostly American prisoners so dey didn’t escape. Vell, during zis time, Mr. Burnham’s plane vas shot down. He parachuted into enemy territory. Not long after, he was caught and taken to ze prison camp I was stationed at.

  Just so you know, za conditions in dat camp vere pretty terrible. There vas a lot of zickness, starvation, and death that I couldn’t do nutting about. I hated seeing ze way ze prisoners were treated, but I had to do vhat I was told. People think zat chust because you are a Cherman, it means zat you believe in what Hitler vas doing. Well. It’s not true. I didn’t. I hated vhat vas going on in my country.

  “That must have been terrible for you,” Amy said.

  Mr. Heckler nodded. “Yes. It vas. Vorse than you can ever imagine. Ze smell of zickness, and death vas everywhere. Ze camp vas full of lice, rats, and bed bugs. One day while ze prisoners vere outside in da compound, I chust happened to be standing by the big lagoon vhere all da manure and human vaste vas put. Someting happened, and I tripped and fell into the lagoon of muck. Man, zat vas de vorst, gosh-awful stink I ever did smell. It’s forever burnt into my memory. I got covered head to toe in muck, wallowed in it trying to get out. But I couldn’t get out because it vas zo slippery.

  Da prisoners started laughing, and even za officers. I vas terribly ashamed. I screeched, hollered, and yelled for zomeone to help me out, but nobody came. You could say, I felt very “Flotsamish.” Chust as I felt like giving up, and seeing myself wallowing in ze muck for ze rest of my days, a prisoner, Mr. Burnham, grabbed za barrel of the gun I had dropped, and held it out for me to grab, so I could get out of zat dang, stench hole.

  “Right then, Mr. Burnham and I became friends. I mean, it takes a special kind of person to do vhat Mr. Burnham did. And I made sure his kindness did not go unnoticed. From den on I made sure Mr. Burnham did not go hungry, even vhen I knew I vas risking my own neck by helping him. I got a lunchbox, filled it with food, and hid it where Mr. Burnham could find it. Zen in turn, vhen it was empty, he would put it in a place where I could find it and refill it. Zis went on for some time. Dat is, until my higher-ranking officer found out.

  “Mr. Burnham, or Joe, as I called him back then, vas summoned for questioning. But before zey could beat him to death, I confessed to feeding him. After zat, I vas beaten, sentenced to death, and sent before a firing squad. Luckily for me, da Americans started bombing ze building behind us, right before I was to be shot. I ran away, changed my name to Mr. Sam Heckler, and have been living as a hermit most of my life.”

  “Wow,” Amy murmured. “You were brave. It’s funny that you and Mr. Burnham didn’t find each other before now.”

  Mr. Heckler shook his head. “Guess we chust needed zomeone like you to find us. If you hadn’t found ze
lunchbox, we might have never known. Especially since I didn’t know Mr. Burnham’s real name. It seems dat not long after da war, when everyting was starting to settle down, Mr. Burnham published the story in a Cherman newspaper. Dose are some of da papers you found in da lunchbox. I guess, Mr. Burnham thought I vas killed because of him. Made him feel mighty bad. So bad dat he kept zat lunchbox for thirty years, as a reminder of my life and the goodness wee see in the strangers we meet every day.”

  “That’s pretty amazing,” Amy said. “So, what was your real name, anyway?”

  “Peter Steiner.”

  Amy smiled. “I like that name a lot better than Mr. Heckler.”

  “Yeah,” Mr. Heckler nodded. “I did too, once.”

  “You don’t now?”

  “Nope.”

  Amy looked at Mr. Heckler, searchingly. Her face was ashen, and her eyes looked pained. “So, is this story a part of your secret you were going to tell me?”

  Mr. Heckler shook his head. “No. It’s not za zecret. It’s only a small part of it.”

  Suddenly the boards above them shifted, and light and voices came pouring through.

  “We’re down here!” Mr. Heckler yelled. “Hurry!”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Found

  As the heavy boards were lifted off Amy’s chest, she let out a low cry, and fainted.

  “Here,” Mr. Heckler said, helping lift her up. “Take her before da whole ting falls in on both of us.”

  Many outstretched hands grasped Amy, and pulled her carefully to safety, while others helped Mr. Heckler from the wreckage.

  “Amy?” Mr. Heckler said, walking beside her stretcher. “Can you hear me?”

  “She’s got a broken arm, a concussion, and some cracked ribs,” the doctor said, carrying her stretcher to the ambulance. But she looks good for having a church house on top of her.”

  Amy opened her eyes and smiled faintly. All around her she could see familiar faces. It looked like the whole town had come out to help. Brier and Tristan were there. Nate and his parents, the preacher, Miss Blossom, and even Miss Rackbith had come to help.

  Before taking her away in the ambulance, Amy grasped Mr. Heckler’s hand and cried, “Tell me the secret, NOW! I want to know before I go.”

  “No,” Mr. Heckler said, “you have to go to ze hospital first. I can tell you later.”

  “I won’t let them take me away until you tell me.”

  “Fine,” Mr. Heckler said, brushing a stray hair out of Amy’s face. “I vill tell you. You see. Right before I vas drafted, and long before Hitler came to power, I married a Jewish woman, named Rachel Flohr. You can only guess vhat happened vhen da war started. She vas taken away from me, and put into one of zose death camps. I never saw her again. I thought dat you could help me find her if she is still alive. But I realize now zat it was silly to think you could find her. She’s gone. And you can’t raise her from da dead.”

  “No, it’s not silly,” Amy said, closing her eyes. “If she is still alive I’ll know.” She concentrated hard, and let the memory of what Mr. Heckler had said flood her mind. Gradually, the image of a woman standing quite near her pervaded her thoughts, causing her skin to tingle with warmth.

  “She’s here,” Amy breathed, excitedly. “She is really here, Mr. Heckler!”

  “Vhat?” Mr. Heckler asked. “Vhere?”

  Amy’s gaze rested on Miss Blossom. “It’s her. Miss Blossom. The Jewish woman you fell in love with and married. Guess she’s not really a Miss.”

  The shocked look on Mr. Heckler’s face was enough to make anyone do a double take and wonder if he had just won the lottery, or acquired a hole in his pants.

  “Move, Mister. We have to get your daughter to the hospital!” a doctor shouted, pushing Mr. Heckler aside, and slamming the ambulance doors.

  Amy smiled as she lay back on the stretcher, imagining what was going on behind the closed doors. Mr. Heckler, the German, had finally found his lost love. She understood now why Miss Blossom, had wired all those coming-home books to her gate, and why she had created a fence made out of junk. Miss Blossom, was, in her own way, making sculptures out of flotsam. What a beautiful, romantic story. Amy sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. She would always remember this day as the day of sculptured Flotsam---the day she had found a lost brother, a lost love, a lost hero, a friend, and a place where she belonged.

  She was home.

  Mr. Heckler’s Lost Things List

  Dear Amy, one thing you may not know about Crab Apple County is that it is notoriously remembered in history as a place where many a traveler got lost. Not only that, it is a place where many people lost their lives, and their fortunes. Robbers and thieves, and savage Indians pillaged the country, taking treasure and other valuables, only to hide them deep in the mountains. There is a legend of one outlaw who was struck by lightning, just after he had secreted his treasure. He died of course, and no one knows where his lost treasure is, to this day.

  #1. Or whatever order you want to find it in. Find ole’ outlaw Leatherspur’s lost lightning treasure.

  #2. Find our neighbor, Mr. Burnham’s lost lunchbox. He saw me last week and asked me if I had seen it. According to rumor, he has been carrying that old lunchbox around for years and would greatly appreciate you finding it for him.

  #3. Find an arrowhead.

  #4. Find Indian Warsaw’s gold tooth. It’s hearsay that an arrow hit him in the jaw and knocked it out of his mouth.

  #5. Find an enemy and turn him/her into a friend.

  #6. Find someone who is lonely.

  #7. Find a church.

  #8. Find your family. Siblings? Parents?

  #9. Find my gold thimble, my silver spoon, my old marble, an eagle’s feather, my old pair of boots, my lost wallet my lost glove, my lost hammer, the lost piece to my favorite jigsaw puzzle, and the mate to my favorite pair of socks.

  #10. Find A Home.

  When you have found all the things on this list, come and show me what you have found. Then and only then, will I reveal my secret.

  Author’s Note

  Although this story and characters are purely a work of fiction, created from my overactive imagination, the idea for “Flotsam” came about from actual events. My family did, in fact, rescue a baby fawn trapped in a muddy ditch, and raise it to adulthood.

  The war story in this book, although fictitious, is a tribute to my Grandpa Skeem who, when serving in the army in WWII, had his plane shot down, and was eventually taken as a POW---Prisoner Of War. There, one of the German guards fell into one of the yucky potty trenches, and my grandpa was the only one kind enough to give him a hand out. What a great guy. You rock Gramps.

  I am sure that many people, (your Grandpa included) have similar stories. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if you took a moment to ask him about his experiences. You might be surprised at what he may tell you. Just sayin…

  The Author And the Real Flotsam

  Find-It List For Young and old Seekers

  Be sure to cross it off when you have found an item.

  Can You Find:

  #1. Find someone you don’t like and turn him/her into a friend.

  #2. Find a lonely person, be their friend.

  #3. Find a Church.

  #4. Find a new food exotic food and try it. It might taste good.

  #5. Find a way to cheer someone up.

  #6. Clean a spot in your room that is particularly dirty, and find something that is important to you that has been lost for a long time.

  #7. Create a treasure map, and bury something that will be fun for your friends to find.

  #8. Look underneath all your couch cushions and find all the cool stuff that has been lost.

  #9. Find an old picture of your parents and grandparents when they were your

  age, and find out more about their past.

  #10. Find 10 things you like about yourself.

  #11. Find someone who needs your help and help them.

&nbs
p; #12. Find one new book at the library and learn something new. Also, in your library wanderings, you must also find a good joke book with good jokes in it. If no such thing exist, you must make your own joke book. Then read what you’ve found to one of your friends and have a good laugh.

  #13. Find someone who has touched your life and send a thank you note to them.

  #14. Find a road less traveled, take it, see where it leads. What did you find?

  #15. Find something that you have never done before, and go do it,

  #16. Find someone who needs an act of service done, and do it in secret.

  #17. Find a secluded spot of ground where there is a big tree. Talk to the tree, tell the tree about yourself. Tell it everything. Then give it a hug. See how good you feel. Or how goofy.

  #18. Have your mom take you to a busy place in the city, and find people to watch. Think about the people that pass by you. Then, go watch the night-sky, and dance under the stars. Yeah, raise your hands and yell, laugh aloud.

  #19. Find a swimming pool, and go swimming. Then find out how long you can hold your breath.

  #20. Find abundance. Go to your bedroom, and pick out all the things you like. Count them. Then go to your fridge, notice how much food is in there. After that, go to somewhere sandy, notice how many sand specks there are. Try to count them. When you are tired of that, count the leaves on the trees or their branches. When you grow tired of that, count the rocks in front of your house, and count how many drops of water it takes to fill a cup of water. Watch a little a baby laugh, see how many times it makes you smile. Look in the mirror and try to count how many hairs you have.

  Now you’re laughing. That’s good. God is abundance. Everything he does, he does in quantity. He didn’t put one pebble of sand on the beach, or one star in the sky, or a single hair on your head. Do you reflect abundance?